Assuetudes
by ediblesquirtles
Summary: More and more often, Romano finds himself fondly reflecting on Spain's little quirks and habits. De-anon from kink meme. Spamano, rated T for Romano's potty mouth. One-shot.


Romano seriously didn't know what was wrong with himself.

Lately, when he looked at Spain – when he was cooking, or doing the dishes, or even in bed – sometimes, his focus would suddenly veer off-track and he would be dragged into a little drama-esque flashback of how Spain had to wash his hands before sex even if it totally ruined the moment ("But I was vacuuming the floor before this! What if you had my fingers in your mouth and you got a stomachache or something – OUCH!") or how Spain couldn't sleep until his pillow was fluffed up _just so_. It was happening more and more often, and he knew Spain was catching on due to the concerned looks he threw in Romano's direction every time he had to call his name to catch his attention. Of course, Romano refused to admit it. It would make him look like a soppy romantic pansy which he, God forbid, was not. No, he _definitely_ wasn't going to admit it.

Habits – Spain had tons of them. Once, he woke up in the middle of the night to find the space beside him empty and a light shining from under the bedroom door. Bleary-eyed and grumpy, he felt his way along the hall and stumbled across Spain in the living room, curled up on the sofa and staring intently at his laptop with a goofy smile on his face. Romano stopped in his tracks, scrubbed at his eyes, and threw a cursory glance at the wall clock. "Dammit, you bastard! What the hell are you doing? It's fucking four in the morning!" Spain looked up at Romano's outburst and gave him his sunniest smile. "Romano! Come here and look at this!" Romano scowled but made his way over. "It'd better not be porn, you fucking tomato bastard…" He peered over Spain's shoulder. No, it wasn't porn. Romano was part relieved and part speechless as he stared at a Youtube video of two fluffy kittens playing with a ball of yarn. Spain beamed. "Aren't they just adorable! I wanted to stop at two a.m., but they were so cute that I kept clicking on more links – oh, I'm sorry, Romano, did you miss me? I'll be right to bed so don't worry~"

Romano went to bed that night fuming. Spain continued doing it anyway.

And then there was Spain's habit of waking up at the crack of dawn every Saturday to go down to the beach. Often, this included dragging a half-asleep Romano along with him. What for? To visit the goddamn _turtles_, of course.

"Hola, cuties!" Spain cooed as he crouched down on the sand, next to a nest full of the God-awful wriggling _things_. Romano stayed a sensible distance away, grumbling and shivering in the chilly morning air. He didn't _get_ why Spain liked those slimy creatures that liked to crawl all over his shoes, let alone pick them up and let them nibble on his fingers – he shuddered. Just the thought was giving him the creeps.

"Romano!" He looked up at Spain's voice – and found himself staring right into the beady eyes of a baby sea turtle. What came out of Romano's mouth was a strangled combination of a scream and a loud "FUCK DAMMIT!". He stumbled backwards but succeeded in tripping over his own feet and landed with a not-so-painless thump. Spain was holding his sides, practically doubled over with laughter, and the confused baby was crawling _towards him_. Romano let out another yell and scrambled to his feet. "_Fuck_, Spain! Get that _thing_ away from me! SPAIN, YOU GODDAMN BASTARD!" His voice rose almost a full octave as he backed away. Still chuckling and wiping the tears from his eyes, Spain caught the baby turtle and returned it to its nest, then returned to where Romano was shaking in his shoes, a suitably chastened look on his face. "Romano, are you okay? I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist–" Romano had thrown himself at Spain, curses muffled by his shirt, sniffling. Spain never did it again, but continued to visit the goddamn turtles every fucking Saturday. Needless to say, Romano had given Spain the cold shoulder for the rest of the day, but well, who could complain about makeup sex?

"-omano? Romano!" Romano snapped out of his reverie with a jolt. Spain was staring down at him with furrowed brows. "W-What, bastard?" he snapped, cheeks reddening. "I said, lunch is ready. What's with you these few days? You're really out of it and you hardly pay attention to what I say!" Spain complained. Romano looked away, mumbling, "It's nothing…" but Spain cut him off. "It can't be nothing, you've been spacing out all week! Tell me what's going on, Romano!" Romano continued to dodge the question and Spain continued to press him for an answer until Spain finally got fed up, pinned him to the couch and growled, "No lunch and no sex until you answer me!"

There was a silence, then Romano turned his head away and mumbled, "I-I was just thinking about your crazy weird habits… like how you like to watch fucking cats on Youtube in the middle of the night and how you have to visit the fucking turtles every fucking Saturday… I-It's not that I was thinking about you, dammit! I still haven't forgiven you for the fucking turtle–" he was abruptly silenced when Spain leaned down and gave him a long, hard kiss.

When Spain pulled away, the both of them panting and Romano's cheeks tomato red, he grinned and ruffled Romano's hair. "Romano, you're so adorable! Even the turtles can't compare with you!"

"BASTARD!" Romano's embarrassed yell echoed around the apartment block.


End file.
